


Fresh Fruit Feeding

by chubinecco



Category: Ginger and Mint
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Feeding Kink, Food Kink, Gen, Hand Feeding, Stomach Ache, Stuffing, hiccupping, mention of weight gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 23:00:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13669101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chubinecco/pseuds/chubinecco
Summary: Grayson walks in on Bramley one plate of strawberries away from finishing a new spell. Of course, he settles in to help his friend get through the last of his ingredients. If there's a bit of cuddling and belly rubs to go with, who's he to complain?





	Fresh Fruit Feeding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Myxini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myxini/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Ginger & Mint](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12705144) by [Myxini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myxini/pseuds/Myxini). 



> Inspired by [Myxini's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myxini/pseuds/Myxini) AMAZING series by the name, [Ginger and Mint](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12705144). Which you should TOTALLY go read. It's got AMAZING characters and GORGEOUS world-building and fucking HOT kink and an actual PLOT like... it's not JUST indulgent, it's GOOD. Though you CAN read this without reading that, I recommend at least reading the first two chapters, so you know who these characters are and what a "di-mage" is.
> 
> This ficlet is spoiler free, or if it has spoilers, they are completely coincidental and based off of my own hopeful imaginings :3 Bramley and Grayson might be a little out of character? We the readers are still getting to know them, but I just _couldn't_ resist writing this little gem for them. I can't WAIT for the next installment ^.^
> 
> Hope you all enjoy, and let me know in the comments if you'd like to see more ^.^

Grayson stops halfway into the common rooms, Jacket half-off of one shoulder at the sight before him. It’s not _tremendously_ uncommon, but it always amuses him when he sees it. It’s also just… fascinating to see. Somehow still novel despite how he sees it at least weekly

“Have a productive day?” He asks Bramley, who is currently sprawled out, belly up in the middle of a pile of cushions by the low table they use for late-night card games and occasional spell practice.

“Uh?” Bramley glances up, staring blearily at Grayson for an upside-down moment. One blink… then two. “Oh… almost. Kind of…” He trails off, urping slightly, he doesn’t bother to raise a hand to cover it as he lays back down. “I wanted to try a new spell, but… I’m short one ingredient set, and I can’t get up to reach the table… or well… I could-”

“But it’d be painful, and you’re trying to focus?” Grayson finishes for him, kneeling beside his friend’s bloated gut and pushing his shirt, which has already started to ride up, out of the way so he can rub and stroke at his belly, soothing the aches.

“Oh… Now that’s nice…” Bramley purrs, planting his feet on the ground and rocking back and forth with Grayson’s gentle strokes.

“Want to try again tomorrow? Or want me to feed you the last ingredient now?” Grayson asks, gaze fond. Bramley’s own eyes are closed, but he’s smiling dopily.

“Oh, would you? That’d be so helpful.”

Chuckling lightly, Grayson leans across the table -- grunting slightly, his own tummy isn’t exactly _empty_ none of them are ever really allowed that luxury, this deep into the semester -- he tugs the final plate of strawberries closer and lifts the first between two pinched fingers. “Freshness or sweetness?” He asks mildly, trying to help Bramley keep his mind off his stomach and on his studies. It is such a lovely stomach though. Grayson lets his eyes rove over his friend, admiring his proficiency as a di-mage.

“Both. Also tartness, though less than the pineapples from earlier,” Bramley explains, barely lifting his head, just opening his mouth and letting Grayson place the morsel between his lips and bite. “It’s an interesting spell.”

“What’s it supposed to do?” Grayson asks, discarding the first stem and working slow circles across Bramley’s belly with his other hand as he reaches for the next strawberry.

Bramley’s belly is quite full, round and firm under smooth, strong muscles. And just a little bit of plush. All of their weights have fluctuated wildly throughout the semester. Bramley’s is up right now, but Grayson’s is down.  
It shows in the way Grayson’s swollen gut sits on his gangling frame. It _appears_ more impressive than Bramley’s right now, but Grayson knows that’s not accurate.

Bramley, so broad shouldered and muscular and heavy, he’s probably eaten twice what Grayson has in half the time.

Grayson is so lost in his own thoughts, he almost misses when Bramley finishes chewing his third strawberry and answers, “It’s a _cleaning_ spell!” His voice is proud, his eyes bright when he opens them to grin up at Grayson before Grayson puts another strawberry between his lips.

“Ah, lots of freshness throughout. That explains the fruit.” Grayson’s hand drifts down Bramley’s smooth gut, fingers dipping briefly around his navel before he returns to the important task of rubbing back and forth across his actual stomach.

When their eyes meet, Bramley looks amused and knowing.

Grayson doesn’t know what that expression is supposed to mean. “Ah, is this your first attempt casting this spell?”

“Not quite,” Bramley says, wincing his way through a swallow. He has to take a moment to pant through the pain of a cramp, his own hand joining Grayson’s on his belly. “This will be the… fourth time? I almost had it last time though. Got everything down, and felt that... “ He waves his hand vaguely in the air, “Sparkle and pull like a spell about to blossom, but…” He drops his hand with a thud to the floor, shrugs.

“Well, good luck. I think you’ll get it this time. Something just… feels right.”

Bramley huffs, but he doesn’t disagree. “I hope so. If it works, I won’t have to do laundry this week, or next.”

Grayson looks over to the table and the empty plates stacked to one side. He can see the remains of two? Pineapples, a small heap of cherry pits, enough watermelon rind for at least half of one of the _enormous_ fruit they grow here at the school. Grayson had never seen anything half as lucious or flavorful or _huge_ before moving to Oppendorff. Although, to be fair, his experiences prior to moving to Oppendorff were fairly limited.

There’s also a pile of mixed piths from a few different citrus. He recognizes the oranges and tangerines well enough, (same color, different thickness -- he never expected to learn to recognize different foods and ingredients by the smallest cues, yet here he is) but there’s one he doesn’t recognize mixed in.

“Ooh, okay, slow down.” Bramley groans, interrupting Grayson’s distraction.

Grayson looks over, alarmed. He hadn’t been paying attention, just methodically feeding strawberry after strawberry. A steady stream of flush, red fruit disappearing into that abused tummy, so swollen that Bramley’s belly looks almost as ripe as the fruit he’s been eating all afternoon.

Bramley himself looks less ripe. His face is pale and a little sweaty, mouth open and panting. He works his tongue carefully, trying to push through and keep everything down. A lone, shaky hiccup makes him wince and clutch at his stomach.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” Grayson bites his lip, petting his hand in the softest, gentlest strokes he knows how over Bramley’s gut. In other circumstances, it would probably tickle, but he’s hoping it’ll serve to distract and sooth.

Bramley nods jerkily. “Getting there. You’re fine.” He pauses for another queasy hiccup. “I didn’t notice I was hitting a wall until that bite-” He stops mid-sentence, gritting teeth and squirming, just a little, trying to find that perfect position where everything settles again. Eventually, he must find it, letting out a long, slow breath. “Not your fault.” He hiccups again.

Grayson nods, embarrassed all the same. “You want me to get you some soothers?”

Bramley starts to shake his head then pauses, “Actually… some tea? There should be a fruit blend somewhere in there… I don’t want to mess up the spell components.”

“Yeah, no of course.” Grayson agrees, scrambling to his feet, careful not to jostle Bramley at all as he hurries to the small kitchenette. “I think there’s still some of Malia’s apple thing in the cupboard.”

“Oh-- yes,” Bramley groans back, and it sounds like a happy noise despite the hiccup that cuts him off in the middle. “I love that stuff. That’d be perfect, thank you.”

It takes a couple minutes before Grayson hurries back to the main room with the over-sized mug of tart, fruity tea, still steaming gently. “I didn’t add any sugar, but I could get some.”

“No, this will be perfect, help me up?” Bramley asks, looking a bit sheepish as he lifts both arms towards Grayson.

Grayson laughs, setting the mug on the table and giving his own tummy a cautious rub. It’s still full and sticks out in front of him, but it should be able to hold up under the strain of a little ‘heavy lifting’ without _too_ much difficulty. He props up a few vibrant cushions just beside Bramley, so they don’t have to do much or go far once he’s up, just turn to the side and let him lean back into the pillows.

Bramley gives his hands another wiggle to indicate he’s still ready, and Grayson clasps them firmly.

“On three?”

Bramley nods and they count down, grunting heavily as they lurch as one, dragging Bramley up with a series of pained groans, all but collapsing once they’ve got him positioned over the makeshift ‘chair.’

He sinks _deep_ into the cushions, and Grayson has to do a little excavating, pushing loose pillows aside to get him comfortable, but before long they’re both seated, side by side with satisfied expressions on their faces.

Bramley’s stomach looks even more impressive now, sprawling out into his lap, heavy and full, a firmness rounding it up and up just below his ribcage. It trembles solidly as he hiccups again.

Grayson licks his lips. “You uh… ready for that tea?” He asks.

“Yes, please.” Bramley nods, biting his own lip lightly. He blows across the top of the mug once Grayson hands it to him, the swirl of steam spinning away as it’s cooled. Then, he takes a sip.

Grayson watches, avidly.

“It’s… gonna be a few before I can get back to the spell,” Bramley admits after another sip. “Sorry, you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to.”

Grayson shrugs, glancing away. “I don’t mind. You’ve done all this for me before too. Probably will again.”

“I suppose that’s true…” Bramley sighs, taking another sip of his tea. His hiccups seem to have passed, leaving behind a loose-limbed lethargy and contentment. It’s a good look on him, and a good place to be for spellcasting.

They sit quietly together, Bramley sipping his tea and Grayson lost in thought, idly rubbing at his stomach. He almost startles when Bramley speaks into the silence.

“Do you think… could you give me one of those?” He asks, face flushed when Grayson looks over to him, then down at his own belly where his hand is resting.

Grayson looks back up, not quite following.

“A belly rub,” Bramley explains. “You’re really good at them. And I think this tea will do more for getting the air out than anything else.”

“Oh! Yeah, sure, no problem,” Grayson hurries to agree, reaching out and placing one broad, smooth palm on Bramley’s gut. It feels impossibly round and full under his hand. His hand almost looks small beside it. “God you look…” He cuts himself off.

“Big?” Bramley asks, a little smug. “Yeah… you’re not looking too shabby yourself, you know. Been practicing with Elliott?”

There’s a note to Bramley’s voice that Grayson doesn’t quite follow. “Yeah. He’s still a dick, but… he’s good at what he does…” Grayson looks down at his belly, softly rounded under his shirt, not quite enough to start resting on his thighs, but it could. And isn’t that a change, knowing that he has the capacity, the ability, to eat so much that his stomach -- still flat and smooth even after months of constant eating -- could _just_ rest on his thighs and he… wouldn’t be exactly comfortable, but he could deal with it.

“You guys have been practicing together a lot,” Bramley continues, his voice leading, but Grayson still doesn’t know where he’s trying to go.

He shrugs. “Like I said, he’s good at what he does.”

Bramley sighs, rolling his eyes as he takes another sip of tea.

Grayson looks over the table and remembers what he was about to ask before they got interrupted. “Oh, hey, what fruit is that one?” He nods to the pile of peels and pith. “The redish-purple one.”

Bramley looks over and beams. “It’s pomegranate. They’re _delicious_ if a little tricky to eat. Kara says I do it wrong.”

“Uh oh.” Grayson chuckles, settling in closer to Bramley’s side, easier to rub his belly, and besides, he’s warm and comfy and covered in pillows. “How are you ‘supposed’ to eat them.”

“Well,” Bramley settles in, warming to his topic of half-gossip and half gushing about his favorite foods. “There are these seeds, dozens of them, the sweet part of the fruit is on the seeds, and these seeds are in clusters inside the rind there.” Bramley nods to the piles on the table.

“Alright… Not sure I follow, but I’m listening.” Grayson says gamely.

“We’ll have to get you one tomorrow, so you can try it out. I forget how many foods you haven’t gotten to try before. I can’t wait to see what you make of this one.”

Grayson snorts, more amused than hurt at the reminder of how little he knew when he first came here. “So, you’ve got seeds covered in fruit.”

“Yes! Seeds!” Bramley says, swallowing a larger sip of tea. “So, to get the seeds out, you can either cut the fruit open and soak it in cold water before using your fingers to dig them out of the wedges.”

Grayson makes a face at that.

“Yeah, I know-”

“It sounds worse than grapefruit.”

“Ehh,” Bramley waggles a hand back and forth before resting it on his belly with a few gentle pats. “It’s worth it. But there’s another slightly… well, Alternatively, you can cut the fruit in half, then hold it over a bowl and whack it with a spoon.”

“What?” Grayson sputters, laughing almost as much at the gleeful tone of Bramley’s voice as the ridiculous description he gives. “Seriously?”

“Seriously!” Bramley grins, covering his mouth for a little burp before continuing, “The first way is slower, but the second way means some of the seeds get cut and then there’s juice _everywhere_ and it’s a really vibrant color too. I’m really hoping this spell works, or I’m going to be spending like half an hour scrubbing it out of my shirt.”

“Hopefully.” Grayson chuckles, patting Bramley’s tummy. “Which way does Kara think you should get the seeds out?”

“Oh! That’s not even the part she complains about.” Bramley smirks, settling in. “It’s eating the seeds themselves. She says you have to eat the flesh off of them and spit the seeds out, like cherries.”

“That makes sense…” Grayson hems.

“Not really,” Bramley protests, shaking his head. “There’s just not enough fruit on each seed. It’s like… you might as well just juice it if you’re gonna be that squeamish about it.”

“Uh oh… you didn’t tell _her_ that, did you?” Grayson smirks, already anticipating the answer.

“I… may have phrased it a little bit better but…”

Grayson snorts. “She totally read between the lines and chewed you out didn’t she?”

Bramley blushes, ducking his head. “Yeah…”  
“Hope you’re planning to apologize to her later.”

“I’ve already asked the cooks to order extra cheese, so I can do it right.” Bramley nods firmly.

“Good.” Grayson agrees. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better now, thank you.” Bramley grins, tipping back the last swallow of his tea. “And I’ve finished my tea.”

“That’s excellent!”

“I just need to….” Bramley trails off, shifting and squirming just a little. Both hands come to massage his belly with Grayson’s.

Grayson continues to help, rubbing, pressing ever so carefully, bottom to top. He has a feeling he knows what’s about to happen. He isn’t disappointed.

Bramley’s stomach rumbles -- or perhaps just gives the impression of rumbling beneath Grayson’s fingers -- before a long, loud, and productive belch works its way up Bramley’s throat and out. They’re both laughing at the end of it.

“Oh, ow. Shit. Less full, but still way too much food for a good belly laugh right now.” Bramley winces.

“I know what you mean.” Grayson says ruefully, giving his own stomach a soothing pet. “Think you’re ready for the last of the strawberries? You’re almost done.”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Bramley agrees, reaching out as Grayson lifts the small plate from the table.

They try balancing it on Bramley’s belly, but even though his firm, full tummy actually does rest in his lap, it’s not _quite_ enough to serve as a shelf, even reclined as they are.

“Well… Drat.” Bramley sighs.

“No problem, I don’t mind. I like helping.” Grayson shrugs, setting the plate between them and curling in closer for a better angle to continue rubbing and feeding.

“Alright… if you’re sure you don’t mind.” Bramley smiles sheepishly, opening his mouth for the next strawberry.

“I don’t mind at all.” Grayson smiles back.

They work their way through the rest of the strawberries. The first few go easily, before Bramley has to really push himself again. Grayson does his best to sooth and encourage. Just four more. And then three. And two…

Bramley is panting, sweaty and pained as Grayson holds the last strawberry between them. His face is tight and flushed, almost as much as his stomach. With a wordless nod, he signals Grayson to give it to him, and the last mouthful disappears behind his lips and down into that full, stuffed gut practically pinning him to the floor.

“Creator’s Ghost, Bram…” Grayson breaths, awed and more than a little flushed himself. Out of sympathy for his friend, of course. “You did it. Every bite. All of it right here.”

Bramley just grunts, squirming and panting. Thankfully, he hasn’t started hiccuping again. “Yeah… Now I just gotta…” He winces, squeezing his eyes shut. “I can feel it… the spell’s so close… Just…”

As Grayson watches, completely enraptured, Bramley’s face flushes, his breathing shallow and fast, faster. The air crackles with power. A smell of fresh rain and clean earth swells in the room. The chill of a fall breeze lights on their skin and Grayson watches the moment the spell spills over into reality a swirling flood of energy cascading through the room and beyond.

When it’s done, Grayson has to blink his eyes to clear them, vision temporarily a bit dazed. When he opens them again and takes in the room he pauses. “Uh… Bram… exactly what kind of cleaning spell is this supposed to be?”

“Fabric…” Bramley pants. “It’s so clever. Lasts a couple weeks, any and all fabrics in range will repel all foreign pigmentation. So, no stains from grass or food or dirt. Nothing. Isn’t it great?”

“Umm…” Grayson looks out at the piles of pillows. Perfectly, gleamingly undyed, _white_ pillows. Then he looks down at his own clothes. Previously, an unobtrusive charcoal and blue set. They’re now bone white. “How far does this reach?”

“Dunno.” Bramley yawns, melting into the bleached mountain of pillows behind him. “I doubt anyone’ll complain about magically clean clothes though. Why?”

“Uh... “

Before Grayson can formulate a response, there’s an overly polite, rapping at the common room door. Four precise little knocks. Like a knuckle demanding attention to the very center of the wood.

Bramley lets out a blissfully ignorant, content, little snore.

“Hoo boy...”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you SO much for reading ^.^ You can tell me what you thought here, or over at my tumblr, [chubinecco](https://chubinecco.tumblr.com/).


End file.
